


Midnight Murmurs

by misha_collins_butt



Series: And the Stars Will Fade and the Moon Will Fall but Please Stay With Me Tonight [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dreams, First Kiss, Fluff, Late night talks, M/M, Post-Human!Cas, Smooching, Snogging, angel!cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: First kiss Destiel, fluffy fluffy fluffy





	Midnight Murmurs

**Author's Note:**

> You will be seeing me post quite a few fics, exclusively one-shots, in the next few days. This is because I have literally more than 15 finished, unposted fics that I probably wrote like 4 years ago but I need to declutter my notes and maybe, FINALLY concentrate on An Angel's Lullaby and get that finished for y'all.

No words. He has no words for how beautiful Dean is when he's sleeping. Or when he's awake for that matter. He would never be able to say much even if could, anyway. The man's mind is a nightmare of grey swirls being tossed about a lifetime of hardship and to add the stress of an angel, of all things, being in love with him would send Dean over the edge. Some things are just better left unsaid.

Cas stands in the doorway, light from the hallway his heavenly silhouette, and listens to Dean's thoughts as the hunter turns onto his side and dreams of a sunny afternoon on the edge of a cliff overlooking a rushing river, birds singing a spring tune.

In the dream, Dean looks down and to his right, and catches sight of a pastel flower lightly nestled into a bush, and he plucks it and examines its magenta centre, the golden pollen fuzzy and ripe. Then Cas looks to Dean's left and he nearly stumbles at the sight of himself, relaxing next to Dean on a blanket with his head resting comfortably on Dean's thigh, smiling up at the man. Dean smooths a hand over Cas's hair and tucks the orchid behind Cas's ear, then laces his fingers with the angel's.

A warmth nuzzles its way into Castiel's stomach as he stands, watching Dean at the threshold of his bunker room and the threshold of his own slipping sanity as his blank eyes search around in the darkness, watching the fantasy. This can't be what Dean is actually seeing, this picturesque scene of flowing harmony and ambient love. It's not...not like _Dean_.

The dream ends abruptly and Dean grumbles and rubs his eyes - so childlike, and, compared to how old Cas is, truly young. The hunter props himself up on his elbow and squints at Cas's shadow thrown menacingly across the floor. 

"Cas?" Dean croaks through the stale air, rubbing his eye again. In disbelief? Maybe. "Hey, what's up, buddy," Dean clears his throat and sits up, pulling his knees into his chest and smiling sleepily at the angel standing shock still in the doorway.

"I can't sleep," Cas replies lamely, knowing Dean will see straight trough his thinly veiled excuse. But, damnit, he can't just say he was watching Dean sleep. That's creepy - even he knows it.

"You don't sleep, Cas," Dean laughs, distinguishing the contrast between the dark capsule of the night and the glowing orb of his soul. "You need to talk or somethin'?"

Cas keeps a blank face, he knows. He's still not used to the notion that humans need physical expression to understand each other's emotions. But he can feel himself sending out longing vibes, one of many forms of the pheromones angels often use to communicate. 

"No," Cas's voice catches and the longing particles turn distressed and frantic, so he tries calming himself by counting Dean's freckles.

That's always helped, but he can't do it when he's not speaking to Dean, or getting caught will just cause more stress. He's gotten caught, despite this. Sometimes he'll be counting them when Dean isn't looking, and the human will sense his stare and look up at him, and Cas's blood will rush to his face and he'll look away as quickly as possible. It's a tough strategy but it works.

"You wanna just sit with me?" Dean pats the bed beside where he is seated and completely catches Cas off guard, as if the dream weren't enough.

Based on Dean's behaviour, Cas would've guessed that when Dean woke up from that dream to see him in his room, Dean would become defensive and blockade all of his emotions into that little box he keeps in the back of his mind for when he's trying to be logical or push people away before they can hurt him. But this Dean? This Dean is being concerned, affectionate. It's unlike the Dean that Cas sees during the daytime.

Cas coughs, though his throat doesn't hurt, and scratches the back of his hand absently.

"Um, sure," he responds in a hushed whisper that he's almost certain the human can't actually hear but when he starts toward the bed, Dean opens the comforter up to him, lazy smile still warming his lips.

Cas sits, gingerly perching on the edge of the bed at first, then scooting in after a few moments of dubious quiet. His arm brushes Dean's pillow, sending a pang of memory up through his skin into his eyes. It plays out like Dean's dream, a movie on a big screen in his mind - it's the memory of when Dean and Sam and Cas all went out to the pond so Dean could introduce Cas to fishing, back when he was temporarily a human, and Dean told Cas to try the beer but Cas made a face at the bitter taste and spat it out, and Dean laughed so hard his cheeks turned pink and the dock shook and Cas watched him, smiling, his heart racing.

It's one of his favourites.

A long string of silent time passes between them; Dean picks at the loose threads on his sheets and Cas's eyes follow his fingers as he traces a pattern through the blank fabric.

"Sometimes, I wish I were better with words," Dean speaks suddenly, flinging Cas into his autumn coloured voice. "Y'know? Like...I wish I could say things without them sounding so tacky. Sounding like I'm trying to be poetic and failing miserably." Cas zooms in on Dean's eyes flickering up, his pupils shrinking when he glances at the lighted hallway. The golden speckles of his heart dancing with the green of his irises. "And I wish I could get my shit together. Make sense of my emotions without letting them take over my entire existence." Dean swallows hard. "Wish I had a way to...to just tell people what I need them to know."

Cas's lips flip bravely into a smile and he sighs brusquely.

"You have plenty of time to say what you need to say, Dean," Cas murmurs, fingers playing mindlessly with the fibres of the t-shirt he admittedly stole from Dean back when he was human and needed to borrow clothes for sleeping. "And to the right people."

"'M a hunter, Cas," Dean shakes his head, glorious, shimmering soul turning dull and weak for a moment. Cas wishes he were human again, if only for a moment, so he could see Dean, actually see him, without that bright aura clouding his vision. "My life ain't gonna be all that long."

"And. Even when you die, permanently, you have a VIP pass into heaven," Cas assures him, and his hand, developing its own mind, touches Dean's shoulder gently. Dean doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't care, and simply smiles over at Cas, a joke hinging on the edge of his lips.

"And how would you know," Dean gives a short, frank jut of his chin.

"Let's just say I have some connections," Cas laughs, hand tightening involuntarily on Dean's shoulder, which shakes with his own laughter.

"I see," Dean chuckles, then peters out into more silence. He just breathes for a moment. Castiel's hand slips from Dean's arm and the hunter frowns, looking down at Cas's hand resting between them on the bed. Dean swallows again, jaw working, thoughts pulsing in a stream of navy blue and deep purple and pinkish-brown. "Cas?" He repeats, voice nearly imperceptible even to the angel's ears.

He turns to the human, eyes calm.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Do you ever--" Dean cuts himself off, trying to circulate his mouth in a way that will get out the words he wants. "Do you ever get this feeling like you want to be with someone and you know it's totally possible but...but you don't know what that someone really thinks of you and you don't know how to...tell them. That you love them."

Breathe in. Breathe out. Freckle count: 317. 

"Sometimes, yes," Cas says softly, slowly. Cautious. "Then again, I'm still getting used to these very human emotions even after all this time. So I may have thought that was just something I felt." He breathes out a chuckle.

Dean's lips move, but no sound escapes for another moment. 

Then.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Would you...would you let me..." Dean's eyebrows knit together slowly and he swallows a third time, the anxiety welling up in his eyes translating to Cas's thoughts.

And just like that, without letting Dean finish his sentence, Cas gracefully, gently turns Dean's chin to face him, tilts his own head, and he lets his lips land on Dean's, a careful touch.

It's just a peck. A school child crush kind of kiss, but when Cas backs off Dean's eyes are on his, watery and solemn.

"I was wondering when you would ask."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Dean whispers, eyelids sinking over moonlit pupils and irises of summer. "I didn't know...I didn't want to lose you again." Dean's hand cups the back of Cas's neck, tugging him closer. "Can't lose you again. Cas, I've lost you so many times and I just-" his voice keeps wavering and it chops off with a sobbing gasp. "Cas, I love you so much. Fuck, it feels good to say it. I love you, I love you."

"You don't need to worry, Dean. I'm not going anywhere. Not now."

They kiss again, lips slotting together, Castiel fighting his every urge to pull Dean down with him to the bed and into the depths of the oblivion that is an angelic love. Dean's aura swirls together like water colour paint splashing onto the empty, white canvas of Cas's mind, every fibre of soul flaring up into an entity so bright it's nearly impossible to see the tendrils of it reach up through his heart and into his mouth, but Cas feels it pouring into him like rain from a storm cloud, lightning bolts charging his grace. 

Where did he go so right to deserve this man, this humanity wrapped up in a single human, like a gift signed to Cas on Christmas morning.

Dean's hands find Cas's waist and nudge him up until he's swinging his leg over Dean's hips and sitting on Dean's thighs.

Cas breaks away and gasps in some much needed oxygen.

"Dean, wait--"

"Don't worry, Cas," he mumbles, fingers raking up through Cas's hair, lips skimming his neck. "I'm not about to undress you. Mentally maybe," Cas can feel Dean's smile spread across his throat the human nuzzles his face into it. "But not tonight."

Cas's lips part, eyes fixed on the shelf above Dean's bed, littered with photos of the past, snapshots of memories his human mind will eventually release into the pit of forgotten visions. Cas closes his eyes and stores this moment in his own basket of memoirs hand woven specifically for Dean. 

Dean sinks down into his bed, taking Cas with him, and Cas rests his head without second thought on Dean's chest, snuggling into his collarbone with a grateful sigh. Dean's fingers still play along through his hair, and his lips press against Cas's skull, and Cas retraces the steps took to get to this second in time, with his cheek scrunched against Dean's heart and Dean's mouth on his hair, and their legs tangled together in a mess of limbs.

And just as Cas senses Dean is about to fall asleep, Cas whispers, in the breathiest of voices and in the song of the Lord's grace, "I love you, too, Dean Winchester."

And maybe some things are better off said.


End file.
